issues
by GlowingPatchwork
Summary: People rarely seemed to acknowledge that adjusting wasn't very easy for her. Perhaps it was because she didn't really let them. ((May continue!))
1. adjusting

All she really wanted was to feel safe.

People tried their best; she knew that. She appreciated it, really, but each sympathetic glance and softly spoken word directed her way only injected more poison into her rotting veins. What a despicable person, she laughed bitterly. All these wonderful people showing how much they truly cared about her in their own little ways, and all she could return was a snide scoff and a cold "thanks for comprehending."

Perhaps it was because she didn't care about them at all. Outwardly, she was empathetic and sweet, never forgetting to act like a lady and laugh even when a joke wasn't funny. She had forgotten a long time ago if this persona was fabricated or not; she supposed aspects of it had just woven themselves into her eventually. She had no idea how to even begin to approach this issue. Sometimes her stupid, intrusive thoughts quite enjoyed castrating her.

Many years had been wasted roaming a world of lies and mechanics. It was a beautiful little town, yet left her with a few, well, adjustments to make. She didn't know how to deal with real people at all, and in a way, she almost hated her father for it. She cared dearly for these machines because she knew they had to be genuine, and they couldn't ever lie or trick or backstab her; they'd been programmed that way, and didn't have a choice in the matter. But real people were scary and loud and diverse and unpredictable, and she couldn't step foot outside her home anymore for fear of their gossiping, gluttonous, violent, selfish, cold, lying-

_She was quivering at this point. It was July, and she was working up a rather unappealing sweat tangled in her damp mattress, but the cold infecting her heart made her tremble anyhow. She still didn't know what to do about it. _

The world was a truly despicable place, right down to the core, but she knew she couldn't go back to her little safe haven of robots. The whole idea of St Mystere was for someone to save her and take her away from it all; she was open minded and eager, of course, to be whisked dramatically away from that lonely tower, and yet... somehow, the pungent London fog had managed to dampen her spirits, her excitement, her faith. She hadn't quite realised that these people had developed thoughts of their own, and no matter how sweet or caring or likeable or adaptive she acted, sometimes people just didn't want that.

Perhaps that was the thing that hurt the most.

Perhaps she wasn't too good at adapting after all.

But she was so, so much worse at identifying what exactly was wrong with her.


	2. him

I guess it started late. Somewhere along the lines of smoking in the ripped backseats of a shitty car, blaring out Nirvana lyrics you've never heard of and stumbling home at 2am with your parents screaming at you for hurting yourself in this way. Somewhere you stop hearing them, or, they gets drowned out by those same stupid lyrics and people you stay around for status.

The world is indeed cold, he reflected, taking a drag and watching with half lidded eyes as the smoke dissipated into the summer air. A calming breeze was sweeping his unwashed hair and dirty fingernails, and his heart is throbbing to a beat he still isn't familiar with. He whispers her name into the air. It wasn't something he should wallow in shitty self pity for but he couldnt help it. Its hard for people to accept their own flaws, he knew that and was still no exception.

"The fuck happened to you?" A voice asks, but it's distorted and sounds like it's underwater through a tape recorder down along the insane path of his life and regrets and it's littered with dark trees which is horrible and he wants to cut them out but he cant his thoughts are going out of control he is going out of control and he needs to stop.

Just stop. Its happening again.

He takes a quivering breath, and it's then that he acknowledges the tears slipping from his eyes. He doesn't know what to do about them and he doesn't want pity so he just takes another drag, another swig of something bitter, pops another pill, whatever. He faintly recalls how she used to grab his arm and force him to throw that shit up even if it meant sticking her fingers down his throat and getting them covered in his vomit because fuck, fuck, she cared. He was sure he'd tainted her now; she was getting so damn good at trusting frightening and unpredictable people, He was the wrong person. His eyes were blurring and his hands shaking as someone grabbed his arm, whispered a comforting "you need this more than I do" and overflowed his bloodstream with an unnamed liquid.

Suddenly there were psychedelic colours everywhere and monsters unhinging their jaws to reveal nails that had been ripped from his fingers, leaving disgusting husks and he looks down at that thought and sees he is literally a husk and there's a nest of spiders burrowed inside him and he fucking hates spiders but they're crawling into his mouth and through his eyes and in his hair and he just screams and sprints towards nothing in particular.

The stupid, angsty thought hits him that he cant run away from his literal body and he's begging the faceless entities in front of him to just take them out but they hiss and claw at him so he has to run again.

But they're bearing down on him and at this point his dickface friends are laughing hysterically and filming it all on their stupid phones and there's a weeping child on the path but it's him and suddenly there's fire everywhere and he's choking so hard and his parents are withering away and their skin melts like cheese he can pick off bits of their flesh and they begin to pick off bits of his like stringy cheese and eat it and he asks if they can help about the spiders but they laugh and they have no mouths and he launches himself at the window and suddenly there's her voice and shes screaming to him in the distance. He throws himself square onto the ground and feels blood making roses grow around him and he rips them out but they pluck off his nails and eyes and hands and there are maggots festering around him everywhere covering him and he screams and that's the last he hears.


End file.
